“Look, Dad, I’m sorry,” I say, swallowing bile, along with my pride. I’m actually surprised at how much it costs me to call him Dad. It’s a testament to how far this family has fallen. “I honestly thought Brookdale would have contacted you themselves. I didn’t realize they hadn’t. I guess when I didn’t hear from you over the weekend, I should have realized the mistake and called.”
“Yes, well,” he blusters, surprised I didn’t continue to buck him. Unlike him, I’ll always put Easton first. It’s a concept he and my mother will never completely understand, but will certainly use to their full advantage to manipulate me. “They must have assumed you would call us. I’m glad you were there, Everett, but we’re his parents. We need to be kept abreast of anything going on with him. Imagine my embarrassment when I call my sister and she knows more about what’s going on than I do.”
Of course. I should have known this call had nothing to do with Easton or what was best for him. Aunt Marty had embarrassed him by knowing more about his sons than he did, and he’s lashing out. As always, he’s only worried about himself and what others see when they look at our family. The insides can be rotting for all he cares, as long as the outside shell still shines. Rotting from the inside out—I’ve never heard a more fitting description for my family.
The words coming out of my mouth and the thoughts swirling in my head are in direct opposition of each other. I carry on two conversations—the farce that falls from my lips and the barbs that I can’t allow myself to say.
“Neither one of us meant to leave you in the dark,” I say behind gritted teeth. “It won’t happen again.”
I wish you’d go straight to hell, where you belong.
“See that you don’t. Your mother and I will schedule a visit to Brookdale as soon as possible,” he says in his most self-important tone.
“East would enjoy that.”
He’d undoubtedly have a seizure from the sheer shock of you showing up at all. Maybe you should stay the hell away, as usual.
“It’s just been so busy at work lately. And your mother … well, she’s having a hard time right now.”
Spare me your empty excuses.
“I’m sorry she’s not feeling well.” I say the words, but I’m physically unable to leech the edge of boredom out of my tone. Because that’s exactly what I am. Bored. Fucking tired of the same old conversations that never change a damned thing.
Dad sighs, sounding as exhausted as I feel. “She’s … I don’t know, Everett, she’s just unable to get over things. Unable to forgive me … forgive her life for the way things turned out.”
Say what you really mean. She’s unable to forgive ME.
“Maybe it’s time to adjust her medications. I’ll call the psychiatrist today,” he says, his voice brightening at his suggestion, like he just solved world hunger.
Great idea, Dad. Throw some pills at the problem. That’s the Montgomery way, isn’t it?
“Sounds great, Dad. Look, I need to go,” I say, ready to end this call five minutes ago.
“Yes, of course. Give Easton a hug for me and your mom when you see him tomorrow.”
What? You’re not coming this weekend? I’m so shocked.
“Will do. Goodbye.”
I hang up before he can reply. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I can stomach one more word.
I hang my head and lean on the back of the patio chair. Has it only been ten minutes since I’d laid on the sofa with Marlo, wrapped in her arms and legs, completely engrossed in her body, her scent, our connection? It feels like a lifetime ago.
I don’t know how long I stay outside, buried by my thoughts and anger, but I hear the click of the door. Her arms wrap around me, one gripping my waist, the other trailing up my chest. When her lips touch the skin beneath my shoulder blades, I sigh and release some of the irritation pulsing through me. When her tongue trails from my back up to the curve of my neck, I easily slide back into the moment where only the two of us exist. When her teeth sink into the base of my neck? You guessed it.
Stiff. Fucking. Wind.
My lips creep into a smile, and I turn to face her. I take her into my arms as I slide my phone into my pocket.
“Sorry for the interruption,” I say, brushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear. “Believe me, I’d much rather be with you than take that call.”
Marlo pulls me back to the door, looking over her shoulder as she goes. “Then come back to me.”
I let her pull me back into the house, through the foyer, right into the living room. As we fall back onto the couch together, only then do I notice the two empty wine glasses on the coffee table … and the also empty bottle of wine right next to them.
My eyes dart back and forth between Low and the wine on the table. She lets out a small chuckle and shrugs.
“Oops.”
Instead of laughing with her, I sit up and grab the wine bottle, tipping it upside down. Nope, not a drop.
“Was I gone that long?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in question.
She lets out a little huff and props herself up on her elbows. “Long enough. I decided to entertain myself.”
“Oh, you certainly did that,” I say, pointing at the glasses and holding up the bottle. “It’s just that … you drank your wine, my wine, and the wine from the refrigerator. Low, I gave you that nerve pill earlier.”
Her plump lips form a perfect “O” and her eyes widen in recognition. Yeah, “oh” is right … more like “oh shit.”
What in the hell have I done?
Marlo
THE WORLD WHIZZES by in a kind of slo-mo frenzy of light streaks and traffic trails as Ever and I amble down the streets of the Quarter. I feel so light, as if Gravity has taken a smoke break and left my body. Who knows how long she’ll be gone, but I’m hoping she’s got a whole pack of cigarettes.
Maybe I could bum one … the thought makes me laugh more than it should.
Ever wraps his hand around my waist and says, “Please, Low, you need to walk faster.”
I can only laugh and tell him, “I’m not walking, I’m floating.”
And I am. Gravity is as drunk as I am, making each step feel like I bounce away from the Earth before she comes to her senses and pulls me back. It’s like the world is my own personal trampoline. I hold onto Ever to keep my balance, but I feel like my spine is a wet noodle. I sway my hips back and forth and watch my hands as they cut through the thick air. If I took a break from my body, if I left for a little minute to just watch, I know I’d see light streaks and traffic trails with each flick of my hand and roll of my hips. I’d look like art.
I creep up the side of Ever’s neck, clawing at his shirt and pulling his ear down to me.
“What’s the rush, huh? Let’s go back to Evelyn’s,” I say, whispering in his ear. He keeps pulling away from me like I’m yelling at him, but I tug at his collar to keep him close.
“I’m so sorry, Low. I’m gonna get you back to the dorm. I’m just … I’m so sorry.”
“For what? I’m fine,” I say as I blow out a puff of air and flip my hand. “It’s all good, Ev. It’s freaking great.”
He pulls out his phone and dials, while keeping one hand around my waist.
“Are you calling Gravity? I wanna talk to her.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Low?”
“Nevermind,” I say, not willing to waste energy explaining. I curl up into Ever and snuggle into his neck.
He’s so warm. I love it … I could love him.
“Man, I need your help. It’s about Marlo. Where are you?”
Ever
BY THE GRACE of God, and burning biceps, I get Marlo and me over to Lafitte’s Bar. Remy waits outside, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips. As we get closer, his smile inches up, up, up to a full blown grin.
“Remy, I messed up, man,” I say, so frustrated, angry at myself for letting this happen.
He laughs and
motions to Marlo, who’s clutching onto my shirt and burying her flushed face in my neck. “Looks to me like you scored, dude. Congrats.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What? I’m just saying—”
I shove him back when he approaches, absolutely disgusted by what he’s insinuating.
“I said shut up.”
He throws his hands up and takes a step back, sneering at me. “No problem, man. Looks like you got this, anyway. You don’t need me.”
I sigh and shake my head just as the piano kicks in and a mellow voice croons “Moody Blues” over the sound of laughter and clanging glasses. Marlo’s semi-limp body sways to the music. Her hands unclench from my shirt, and she pushes away, arms overhead, eyes shut.
“I love this song, Ever. I wanna dance.” A smile plays on her lips as she twirls in slow motion, her foot catching on a broken piece of sidewalk. She lurches forward into Remy’s arms, laughing hysterically.
He lifts her up and slides an arm around her waist, pulling her into an impromptu dance. She giggles and drops her head on his shoulder, swaying and humming.
“See, all’s good, man,” he says.
“I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I gave her half of a nerve pill. I took them all weekend, and that never happened,” I say, pointing to Marlo. “We had a few sips of wine, but then I left her for a few minutes. When I came back, she’d demolished the whole fucking bottle.”
The chorus kicks in and Marlo’s head pops up with a lopsided smile. She points at me and giggles. “’cause I love you … yes, I love you … oh, how I love yooooooouuuuuuuuuuu.”
Remy chuckles and hands her back to me, where she continues to rock her hips to the music. I would do anything to take it back. I wish I knew what part of my idiotic, malfunctioning brain decided it was a good idea to break out the pills. We had everything we could possibly need to have a perfect night together, and I threw gasoline on the flames.
“Xanbars plus alcohol—with her size, any amount of alcohol will do the trick—equals a good fucking time and an eraser for the brain. Just the way it is. She’ll sleep it off, no harm, no foul.”
He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and lights up as I stare at him in disbelief. Are we seeing the same thing?
“No harm, no foul? Are you kidding me? I drugged my girlfriend, Remy!” I holler. A few passersby stare, registering my words. I curse to myself, and lower the volume. “How the fuck am I supposed to get her back to school, safe and sound? Oh, and not kicked the fuck out for doing drugs, man?”
I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never forgive myself if she gets in trouble … or even worse, if something happens to her. The worst part is I’m not in the least bit surprised. This is what I do. I fuck up—I take what’s good and pure and suck the life out of it. I’m nothing but a leech, and I was a fool to think that anything could change that. I know it, my family knows it, and Marlo will know soon enough.
“Look, she’s on the fast track to Snoozeville, so my advice to you is get to the dorm as soon as fucking possible and sneak her in. She’ll be fine, but you just need to find her a bed to crash in sooner rather than later,” he says, waving his hand as if to say “no big deal.”
“Oh, is that all? I wish I would have thought of that. Maybe … maybe I can teleport her into bed, Remy!”
He reaches forward, grabs my collar, and jerks. “Watch your fucking mouth, Ever. I didn’t tell you to blitz your girl. You did that shit all on your own,” he says in a low and threatening tone. He lips curl into a sneer. His eyes rake over my face like I disgust him. “Leave it to you to sleep a girl and not even enjoy the spoils. You’re on your own, man. Figure it out.”
He flicks his cigarette onto the sidewalk and watches me as he strolls back into the bar like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I’m lost, without a clue of how I’m going to get both of us out of this unscathed. One thing I know for sure, I’ll never pull it off alone.
I scroll through my contacts, and hit CALL.
“This better be good, man, I’m in the middle of Sanford & Son.”
“Jeb, I need your help.”
The side door to Boozman Hall creaks open, and Jeb’s big head peeks out, grinning.
“Who’s your best bud, huh?”
A less-pleased, and definitely not grinning, Delilah pushes through the door and glares at me.
“I’m gonna string you up by your balls, Ever Montgomery.”
I’m so pissed at myself and worried about Marlo, I don’t even register Delilah’s threat. No one is angrier at me than me.
I drag Marlo forward since she’s unable to put one foot in front of the other at this point. I would have thrown her over my shoulder three blocks ago if I didn’t think it would raise suspicion. She may not be a dead body, but she sure in the hell is dead weight.
“I’m glad you brought reinforcements. We’re gonna need ‘em,” I say, catching Marlo behind the knees to carry her now that we’ve made it inside the building. Her fingers lace through the hair at the back of my neck, and she nuzzles my ear with her nose.
After what I’ve done, she’s leaning on me, trusting me. And that makes the hatred I feel for myself crawl up my spine and seep deep into my bones. I’ll never deserve her, never be worthy of someone like her. Nothing will change who I’ve been since the very beginning, not even her.
I ruin things. I break people.
“How else were you two going to get onto the girls’ floor, huh? I’m your way in,” Delilah says, dangling a key from her fingers. “Our RA, Danielle, has the flu, so she chugged half a bottle of Nyquil and hit the sack hours ago. Lucky for you … not so lucky for her.”
We climb the stairs to the third floor as quietly as we can. Delilah leads the charge, peeking around corners and listening for opening doors. When we make it to the third floor hallway, Jeb stays behind to act as lookout, and I follow Delilah to their room. She closes the door behind me and turns on a desk lamp.
“Put her in my bed. I’m gonna sleep with her to make sure she’s all right.” She points to the bottom bunk, and I get moving. “No way I trust you to get her into the top bunk, anyway. Not really trusting you with much of anything right now, if I’m being honest.”
I don’t even argue. I can’t, because I don’t trust my judgment either. I pull off her shoes one by one and unbutton her jeans. Delilah swats me away before I pull them down.
“I’ll be damned if you’re getting a peep show. Turn around.” She shoves my shoulder, and I do as she says, utterly defeated.
“I wouldn’t … I didn’t—” I struggle for the words to defend myself, to tell her I’d never intentionally disrespect Marlo.
My eyes flick from the floor to the bed across the room, where Charlotte lays wide awake and glaring. She watches me, stoic and calculating, and I take it.
“You crossed a line tonight,” she says, her face giving nothing away. “You know that, right?”
I nod and shut my eyes. “Yeah.”
After tucking Low in, Delilah rises to grab extra pillows and blankets from the top bunk. I kneel by the bed and lay my head on Low’s chest. I listen to the steady thump of her heart, wishing for it to calm me.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”
And even now, after all I’ve done, her hands move up my back lazily. She lets out a contented sigh as her fingers lace through my hair.
With a chaste kiss to her forehead, I rise, meet Delilah’s disapproving gaze, and walk out the room.
Marlo
MY EYELIDS FEEL like they’re weighed down with sandbags. I pry my sticky lips open, more than sure some of that sand made its way into my mouth. I groan, then flinch, because the sound causes imaginary knives to jab me in both of my temples.
“Ahhhh, the party girl finally awakens,” Delilah says, ten octaves too high, making me cover my ears so I don’t die. Her hand wraps around my wrist and pulls. “Oh no, y
ou don’t. Ever woke me up, banging on the hallway door. I distracted him by telling him you’d want coffee when you woke up, but he’ll be back in just a few. I’m not dealing with his persistent ass again, so you need to get up.”
I creak open one eye and curse the sun. She pulls the blinds closed, and the room dims just enough to not kill me. I throw back the covers, and try to figure out how the hell I ended up in the bottom bunk.
“What the hell happened?” I ask, as I take in my stained blouse and bare legs. And if I’m not mistaken, I sniff … I’m pretty sure I smell like ass. And not a clean one.
“Well, I only saw the end result, but from the way you looked last night,” she says, leaning in to sniff me, then scrunching her nose up in disgust, “and from the way you smell this morning, I’m guessing you got up close and personal with the bottom of a bottle, my friend.”
“What time is it?”
“Lunch time, ya little wino. I reported to the office that you were in bed with a virus, and that cleared you for the morning. But we have advisor meetings this afternoon about next semester. That’s mandatory, so get up, get up, get up!”
I groan and roll out of the bed with not one ounce of grace, landing on all fours, shirt twisted and panties wedgied in my ass. Even in my current state, I find it in me to scratch my ass with a well-placed middle finger. That’s what she gets for being so damn chipper.
Delilah gains back some coolness points by gathering my clothes and helping me get showered in record time, all while I roll through the events of last night through a cloudy memory. I remember dinner with Ever, visiting with Remy, some serious business wet humping, and then … it all gets a bit fuzzy.
Yoga pants are all I can muster today, along with my wet hair thrown into a high bun. I’m glad Delilah woke me when she did because my advisor appointment is in an hour. If I miss that, Mrs. Santo would probably sign me up for comparative literature just to teach me a lesson.
Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Page 16